


Playground

by dierdele



Series: Games [1]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: And sucks Harry off under the table, Dele loses a bet, Harry is a dom, NSFW, There's come and piss and dele is a sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 19:27:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17392274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dierdele/pseuds/dierdele
Summary: “So how about you, Del?” Harry asks when Dele is scrambling to run away from him up a hill. He can practically feel Harry’s sights on his back. “You ever given a blowjob?”Or, Dele loses a bet and has to get down on his knees.





	Playground

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JustinTimberlake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustinTimberlake/gifts).



The first time, it’s an actual game. It’s Fortnite, to be exact.

They’re already four beers down and Dele might be a  _ little  _ bit drunk when he suggests a 1v1 on Fortnite. It’s not the 1v1 that is such an outrageous suggestion; it’s more the forfeit that stuns Harry into silence.  

“Loser sucks off the winner,” Dele says, deadly serious. He’s holding a straight face and waiting for Harry’s reaction. They’re sitting opposite each other in Harry’s hotel room, portable PS4s set up on the desk they’re sitting at. Harry looks over his screen at Dele, looks to see if Dele is being serious. He isn’t, of course, but he wants to tease Harry anyway.

Dele takes a swig of his beer.

“Okay,” Harry says calmly. His expression turns to something Dele can’t quite read in his hazy drunkenness. He thinks it might be… excitement? Dele sets his beer bottle back on the desk but he doesn’t balance it right and it almost falls over.

“Yeah?” He asks, holding the bottle firmly in place. Harry nods.

“Yeah.”

“Cool,” Dele says. He’s already a little breathless because he isn't sure if Harry is being serious or not. Probably not.  _ Surely _ not. Right?

“Cool.”

“First to 10 kills?” Dele proposes. He sets up the game and shuffles a little in his seat. The alcohol must be going to his head and messing with him because he’s actually getting hard. Definitely must be an alcohol thing, he figures.  

Harry edges his chair closer under the table and knocks his foot against Dele’s ankle. Dele looks up and catches Harry grinning at him.

“You sure you want to lose this?” He asks.

Dele rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to lose this. Have fun sucking my dick.”

“We’ll see, Dele,” Harry averts his eyes and smiles at his screen. Dele can’t be sure but he swears he sees Harry blushing.

Dele sets up the game in Playground mode so that it’s just the two of them. They agree to both land in the same location and loot for five minutes before engaging. Dele sets a timer on his phone, just to ensure all rules are being met. Say what you like about Dele, but he isn’t one to break the rules.

They land in Tilted Towers and Dele begins to build an elaborate fortress. He spends a good few minutes hiding loot in secret rooms so that he can replenish quickly should he die - which definitely won’t happen because he’s much better at this than Harry.

Harry, on the other hand, lounges back in his chair, places his hands behind his head, and looks around the hotel room, feigning boredom. Dele glares at him for a second before diverting his attention back to the game.

Harry has built a simple wooden tower, six walls high. It’s the most basic thing Dele has ever seen and he’s a little disappointed by the lack of effort on Harry’s part.

“You’re so boring,” Dele comments, raising an eyebrow while keeping his eyes fixated on the screen. “You’ve built a one by one tower.”

“And yet, I’m still going to win.” Harry replies lazily, almost smug. Dele loves the rising confidence Harry gets when he’s got a few beers in him. He’s completely different to the controlled, straight-talking captain on the pitch.

The timer on Dele’s phone rings and he locks eyes with Harry across the table.

“I’ve got a big dick, just so you know,” Dele says, flashing his eyes at Harry. Harry stutters for a second and Dele thinks he may have taken the joke too far, but then Harry simply swallows and shrugs.

“That’s not going to be a problem for me,” he answers just before swigging some beer, clearly undisturbed. Dele can’t bring himself to back down.

“Because you’ve sucked big dicks before?”

Harry calmly places his beer back on the table and exhales, shaking his head. Dele feels a laugh bubbling up his throat. They’re being completely ridiculous.

Dele turns back to the game and mentally curses himself for actually thinking Harry was on board with the whole blowjob thing. Suddenly he doesn’t feel too interested in the game anymore. Except he  _ does  _ want to prove he’s a better player, so he guesses he’ll just have to play for the bragging rights alone.

Harry hides in his tower while Dele runs around his fortress. He figures this will be an easy game. No need to actually take it too seriously. He might even just dance in front of this-

_ Oh. _

Harry snipes him the second he steps in front of the window.

“Oh, Dele,” Harry teases, “that was too easy.”

Dele ignores Harry’s taunts and keeps his focus on the game.

“I mean, you just totally offered yourself up to me.”

“Shut up, H.” There’s no way Dele is letting Harry have another beer after this one if  _ this  _ is how he’s going to be.

“Two nil to me,” Harry says when he shoots Dele in the back of the head with a shotgun. “But start as you mean to go on, right?”

And he does, in fact, go on. Dele doesn’t know at what point Harry got so good at Fortnite (because he certainly wasn’t this good a few days ago when they played together and Dele had to carry him through every game) but somehow, Harry is winning. By eight kills. To one. And Dele knows for a fact that Harry let him have that one because he felt bad about getting him with yet  _ another  _ trap.

“So how about you, Del?” Harry asks when Dele is scrambling to run away from him up a hill. He can practically feel Harry’s sights on his back. “You ever given a blowjob?”

The shot comes, making it nine one to Harry. Dele can’t concentrate on the game because Harry’s cheeks are flushed from the alcohol and his hair is doing that thing where it flops over his forehead in a neat curl and he keeps fixing Dele with this cheeky, schoolboy grin.

“When did you learn to play this game?” Dele pouts. “You’re cheating.”

“I would never.” Harry pretends to look shocked, and then he smirks at Dele again. “You’re just trying to get out of this blowjob you’re about to owe me.”

Okay, Dele thinks, that’s  _ twice  _ he’s said it now. Maybe Harry is on board after all. The thought kind of makes Dele just want to give up there and then.

Dele retreats to his fortress and hides in a corner. He at least wants to kill Harry one more time to save himself the embarrassment of such a momentous defeat, but Harry finds him quickly. Too quickly. A gun fight ensues and Dele ends up taking a few too many hits. He just manages to get away when he runs straight into one of Harry’s waiting traps and dies instantly.

“Aw, Del, I’m so sorry,” Harry laughs, his drunken grin stretched across his face. Dele kicks him under the table again and Harry grabs his leg, pulls on it so that Dele slides a little further down in his seat.

Dele shrugs, smiling lazily. Harry lets go of his leg but Dele doesn’t straighten himself up. He has other ideas. Before he knows what he’s doing and before he can actually, you know,  _ think this through _ , he’s sliding fully off his chair and under the table.

He waits for Harry to laugh, or to pull out his chair and tell Dele to stop being an idiot, but he doesn’t do either of those things. Instead, he sits back and parts his legs a little.

The room falls silent and Dele’s breath catches in his throat.  _ Is he really going to do this? _

He inches closer to Harry’s legs and positions himself comfortably between them. Harry still isn’t objecting, so Dele figures he’ll keep pushing until eventually they both crack and laugh this whole thing off.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Harry says quietly, causing Dele to freeze under the table. Dele swallows the lump in his throat and looks down. He’s rock hard.  _ Must be the alcohol. _

“A deal’s a deal,” Dele replies. He’s a little hesitant and he doesn’t know what to do next, still doesn’t know if Harry is serious about this.

“Good boy.”

Fuck.  _ Fuck, fuck, fuck.  _ Dele doesn’t need any more encouragement than that. He feels his hard dick twitch painfully against his boxers and knows that this is actually happening now. He’s going to suck off Harry Kane under a table because he lost a bet and he’s going to be  _ good  _ at it _.  _ He’ll do whatever it takes to hear Harry say those two words again.

Dele shuffles forward and tentatively places his hands on Harry’s hips, at the waistband of his grey joggers. Harry’s legs part a little further, inviting Dele to continue, so Dele tugs at the waistband and waits for Harry to roll his hips in the air, giving Dele the room he needs to pull them down to Harry’s ankles.  

Harry is wearing black boxers and Dele can see that he’s already as hard as Dele is. It makes Dele’s head swim to the point where he loses his balance and he has to steady himself by placing his hands on the floor.  _ Fuck _ . Dele can’t stop himself. He pushes his face into Harry’s crotch and feels Harry flinch a little at the sudden contact. He’s on all fours with his face pushed against Harry’s dick, and he actually  _ inhales _ .

Harry smells like precome and warm skin and something else that drives Dele a little bit insane. Harry steps out of his joggers and Dele tosses them to one side, using one hand to pull on Harry’s knee, forcing him to part his legs even further.

“Del,” Harry mumbles, he’s breathless but firm. “You don’t have to-” Dele shuts him up by licking up the length of his thigh, stopping just before his tongue touches the fabric of Harry’s boxers. Harry promptly shuts up, except for the low, husky moan that escapes him when Dele gently bites his inner thigh.

Dele has never heard a noise like that from Harry before and he thinks he might die if he doesn’t hear it again like, right now. So he bites again, harder this time, and Harry rewards him with another moan that sends shivers through Dele’s entire body.

He switches to Harry’s other thigh, takes him by surprise when he sinks his teeth into flesh, but then immediately licks the skin to soothe it. Harry’s legs are quivering and Dele can see his dick twitching in his boxers.

Unable to hold himself off any longer, Dele moves his mouth further up Harry’s thigh until he’s mouthing Harry’s balls, applying gentle pressure with his lips and tongue until he’s convinced that Harry can handle more. That’s when he begins to suck on Harry’s balls, letting the fabric of his boxers soak up the saliva. Harry moans loudly and edges further under the table, clearly aching for more contact.

Who is Dele to disobey?

He moves up and wraps his mouth around the tip of Harry’s cock, lapping up the taste of salty precome and his own saliva.

“You’re so good,” Harry croaks. Dele whimpers around Harry’s cock, feels his own dick leaking precome into his joggers. With that, he slides a hand up the leg of Harry’s boxers and takes Harry’s dick into his hand, relishing the feeling of hot, sticky skin. “Fuck, Del…”

Dele lifts back the waistband of the boxers and pulls Harry’s dick out, letting it meet his mouth and tongue somewhere in the middle. In his mind, he’s repeating Harry’s words over and over again.  _ Good boy, you’re so good. _

Dele wants to be good. He wants to be the best Harry has ever experienced.

His tongue circles the head of Harry’s cock and he licks up the precome that continues to ooze out. He’s drunk on it, drunk of the raw, earthy taste of his best friend, his teammate, his  _ captain _ .

In one swift movement, Dele has Harry’s boxers off completely, tugging them around Harry’s feet and throwing them away. Harry is completely naked from the waist down, but he’s still wearing a shirt and hoodie, and somehow that turns Dele on even more. He imagines someone walking in and starting a conversation, not realising Dele is under the desk with Harry’s dick in this throat. He wants it to happen so that he can see if Harry is capable of holding it together. Wants to see if he can elicit another one of those beautiful moans.

Dele goes deeper, takes Harry completely into his mouth until he’s rewarded with the sound he’s been looking for. God, Harry sounds so fucking good.  _ Tastes  _ so fucking good, too. Dele can’t help it; he spreads his own legs and presses his crotch into the floor, desperate for some relief.

Harry is trembling and he’s actually getting harder. Dele has only had him in his mouth for all of about two minutes, but he can already tell Harry is close. He begins to mix up his technique, switching from mouth to tongue to teeth, gently biting down on Harry’s dick and then lapping at it, covering both Harry’s dick and his own face in a mixture of saliva and precome. It’s around his mouth, down his chin, and across his face. His lips taste of Harry when he licks them.

“I want to make you come,” Dele says suddenly, overcome with the need to impress Harry. He actually wants to beg, but he can’t bring himself to say it out loud.  _ Please come for me. Please let me make you come. _

Dele shifts himself closer to the floor and begins to rut, letting go of any shred of dignity that he might have had left. He’s all mouth and tongue on Harry’s cock and Harry is rock hard now. Dele spits a few times, gets Harry’s dick nice and wet and lubricated, and then proceeds to take in as much as he can manage before he has to pull away for air.

“Make me come,” Harry gasps. His hands find their way under the desk and into Dele’s hair. Dele feels his head being lowered onto Harry’s dick and suddenly there’s an intense heat in his boxers that he can’t explain.  _ Please come for me, please come for me _ . Harry tugs on Dele’s hair, pushes his head, and pulls it back again until Dele has the rhythm that Harry is looking for.  _ I want to be the best you’ve had. I want to be your good boy. _

“ _ Fuck-”  _ Harry’s voice chokes. “ _ Don’t swallow it. _ ” He begins to jolt forward, thrusting harder into Dele’s mouth. Dele moans, tries to say “come for me” but it gets lost around Harry’s dick, and suddenly Harry is pulling Dele’s hair and spilling come into his mouth.

Harry’s entire body twitches as he leaks the rest of his come slowly onto Dele’s tongue. Dele waits patiently, does as he’s told and doesn’t swallow, even though he really,  _ really  _ wants to. Harry’s hands are still in his hair, but they’re soothing now, rubbing the back of Dele’s neck affectionately.

“God- you’re such a good boy,” Harry says as he slowly takes his dick out of Dele’s mouth and tries to catch his breath. “You’re- fuck. Show me.”

Dele remains on all fours, his mouth still full of Harry’s come. Harry pushes his chair away from the table and crouches down to look at Dele. It’s the first time they’ve made eye contact since Dele first got under the table and Dele suddenly feels very vulnerable and exposed. He’s aware that his joggers are soaked. He’s aware that, In the excitement of making Harry come, he may have lost control for a moment and pissed a little in his boxers. He doesn’t even know at what point it happened, but he’s just praying that Harry doesn’t notice.

“Show me,” Harry says again, his thumb gently pushing on Dele’s bottom lip. Dele opens his mouth and lets Harry see the come pooled on his tongue.

“Good boy,” Harry whispers, his eyes gauzy at the sight of Dele looking up so innocently at him. “You can swallow it now.”

Dele savours the taste for just a moment longer before swallowing Harry’s come. Harry looks so proud of him and it makes Dele ever more desperate for his own release. He grinds just a little bit into the floor, and Harry definitely fucking notices, because his eyes dart down, lingering on the dark fabric around Dele’s crotch.

“What happened?” Harry asks sincerely. Dele shakes his head. He doesn’t have the heart to tell Harry what actually happened, so he just shrugs. Harry gets down on his knees and places his thumb back on Dele’s lip. “Dele, tell me what happened.”

“I need to come,” Dele whimpers.

“What’s that?” Harry looks at his crotch again. Dele can feel tears burning at the back of his eyes. He doesn’t want Harry to know, but he can’t lie, either.

“I lost control for a few seconds. I think I pissed myself.” Dele breaks away from the eye contact, too ashamed to witness Harry’s disappointment. Harry uses his fingers to lift Dele’s chin. He looks at him softly and somehow that just makes Dele feel even worse.

“Lie down, on your back,” Harry commands. Dele doesn’t know why he’s being instructed to lie down but he does it anyway. Harry pulls away both chairs to give them more room. When he comes back, he begins pulling off Dele’s socks, and then his joggers. Dele wants to cry from the embarrassment but he lies still and lets Harry gently remove his clothes until Dele is just wearing a t-shirt and his wet boxers.

Dele closes his eyes to stop the tears from falling. Harry pauses, and then slowly bends one of Dele’s legs so that his foot comes to rest flat against the floor. He kisses his way up Dele’s leg, the inside of his knee, his inner thigh, finally settling on Dele’s crotch.

“You are so good,” Harry mumbles between softly-placed kisses. Dele’s breathing becomes shaky as another whimper works its way out of him. “So good, Dele.”

Harry is kissing his boxers now, kissing up Dele’s hard dick, completely unphased by the wetness that is making Dele feel humiliated. He pulls down Dele’s boxers and lifts Dele’s dick to his mouth.

Dele is a mess. He’s all too aware that there’s piss and come and desperation all over him, and now in Harry’s mouth, too. But Harry doesn’t seem to care. His mouth is warm and gentle and he’s using his tongue in all the right ways. It takes maybe twenty seconds for Dele to buckle, and then he’s coming uncontrollably.

Harry swallows it down without issue, plants one last kiss to Dele’s inner thigh, and then lies down next to Dele.

“H-” Dele begins, panting. His eyes are closed and his whole body feel boneless. There’s not an ounce of energy left in him. Harry kisses the side of his mouth.

“I did warn you I’d win.”


End file.
